Countdown
by NotMeagain
Summary: Zoro and Perona's relationship is colored by Perona's dark and sinister tastes and even more difficult personality. This is not the worst Zoro has lived with. A collection of loosely connected Zoro/Perona stories.
1. Chapter 1

"I am out of here! Leaving! There's nothing you can say to make me change my mind!" Perona yelled, standing at the castle's entrance and addressing the large, empty halls. She had a bag slung across her shoulder, she was holding her umbrella up and she was waving her Bearsy doll around to punctuate her words.

She was lying, of course. This was only about the third time she'd done this.

Zoro reached the entrance just as she was turning around and muttering angrily to herself.

"Get back inside," Zoro said, standing with his arms crossed at the edge of the staircase.

"No!" She shouted back and kept going down the road. Her boot slipped on a rock and she wobbled, nearly falling. Quickly regaining her composure, she shot a furtive glance at the swordsman. The fact that he was unsympathetic of her near-accident only angered her more and she made a bigger show of walking away.

Zoro rolled his eyes, wondering once again why he ended up at the same place as her, of all people. He understood how convenient it was to arrive at the home of the man he'd sworn to defeat and who for now was his teacher, but her? What was the damn point?

Still, he uncrossed his arms and as per usual started going down the stairs.

Perona was just looking for attention. When he caught up to her she would start ranting about having to do all the work, about being ordered around by Mihawk, about how she wasn't a servant- she was the one who was supposed to be served by cute creatures while enjoying the dark, sinister atmosphere! Now she had to play doctor and cook and seamstress and a whole lot of other types of work.

So when he reached her he cut to the point and said, "You're not a servant,"

She huffed.

"I don't think you're a servant. I don't have servants."

His words made her slow down. She was still frowning, but she'd gotten what she wanted to hear.

"I'm still leaving," she said.

No, she wasn't. Zoro said nothing; he just scratched around the bandage that covered most of his shoulder. It was just the newest wound he had gotten during his training, and he would get a new one before this one was properly healed. Probably tomorrow, or even later that day.

Perona tried to ignore him and keep going, but out of the corner of her eye she saw how Zoro loosened the bandages to scratch closer to the actual wound. "Don't do that!" she slapped Zoro's hand away.

Zoro groaned in protest, but she paid him no mind and stopped to readjust the bandages.  
>She was no doctor; she just knew how to patch things up, and it used to be that those things were dead. She'd never sewed and mended to keep something alive.<p>

What would you idiot do if I wasn't here? She wanted to ask (while knocking him over the head) but she'd done it a thousand times already. He hadn't answered at first, and eventually settled for grumbling something like 'bleed to death'. That Mihawk wasn't going to heal him any better than her, after all. Would he even bother? She doubted it.

Once she'd refastened the bandages, she slapped his chest lightly and then sighed.

"Hey," Zoro spoke, taking the hand she'd let linger on his shoulder by the wrist. With a little strain, he muttered, "Uh, thanks," choosing to frown at nothing instead of looking at her.

Perona blinked, looking up at his face. Her tantrum suddenly forgotten, a large grin appeared on her lips. She grabbed his hand and started their way back to the castle. It wasn't that he'd never thanked her before. "Haha! And I didn't even have to ask this time!"

"You don't ask, you force me to say it with your damn hollows!"

"Details, details…" she waved the thought away, holding his hand firmly as she dragged him back. Zoro grimaced at her and she didn't notice, much too proud of herself. Once again he wondered why the hell he humored her so much.


	2. Chapter 2

"_And together we'd walk down the aisle, right towards death. And at the end- what else? We destroyed each other."_

In the days during which she had been all alone in the castle with nothing to do but wallow in self-pity and wander around, Perona had found a library.

High up in a tower, it was a dark and dusty hall lined with tall bookshelves on every wall. A soft howl and chill echoed through the place, coming from the broken widow. Perona had stood at the door, admiring the beauty of the place. Then she sighed and walked away. Books; how boring. She could find something more interesting to do. Probably. For the moment she went back to wallowing in her lonely misery.

Luckily she didn't have to worry about it for much longer, since the next day a man fell from the sky. But when she went to see who it was, it wasn't relief what she felt- it was shock and terror. The green haired swordsman from that damn Strawhat crew lay in a crater on the ground with so many wounds on his body that he looked inches away from death.

Then she realized- this was great! Him and the rest of his stupid crew had wrecked her life. A little bit of justice for her at last!

But after a moment she felt a pang of…of something that told her not to abandon him there. She tried to ignore it. He totally deserved this; if it weren't for his crew she would still be living in her own castle, with her boss and surrounded by cute servants. In turn, she was there in that unknown island, completely unattended. Completely alone….

She dragged him back to the castle and cleaned his wounds, bandaging him up so the moron would stop losing blood already.

He slept for days. In the meantime she sewed a Bearsy costume for him to use when he became her new servant, but she was soon done with it. When she began to get bored and cranky again, habit gave up to reason and she chose to distract herself with some book. In this dreary castle surrounded by ruins and gloomy mountains surely the library would have some good horror stories or tragic tales of death and betrayal.

One slim volume finally met her criteria and she brought it back to the provisional infirmary. It was a collection of tragic love stories. Normally she wouldn't even bother- romance was boring, and it was tragic usually because the couple was a pair of dumb-asses. This one seemed different, as it was narrated by Death, and she told of all the love stories that deserved to end in tears.

Setting a chair besides the Strawhat's bed, she read while keeping an eye on him.

There was a tale in which the female protagonist lied and manipulated her way into a man's heart. Shortly before their wedding he realized her deception, but it was too late and he couldn't get out of the situation. Death herself officiated the ceremony in disguise, and saw how the man vowed to get revenge on the woman. She simply dared him to try, and the tale they spent the rest of their lives trying to destroy each other.

Perona sighed, holding the book against her chest. Now that was a proper love story. Who wanted boring happily-ever-afters? She much preferred that type of vitriol; it seemed more in line with the gloom and horror that made her so happy. Romance had never really been a concern to her- it would distract her from her comfort. But then again, that comfort was gone, so she figured it wasn't weird of her to imagine how she'd fare with love. And she decided she wanted one like the one in the tale.

The strawhat man wheezed; Perona rolled her eyes. She put the book and the thought away, and went to get water for the man's dry throat.

* * *

><p>Note: Quote from Belanova's song Rosa Pastel<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Mihawk sat on his huge, black sofa, calmly reading a book as the day waned. The castle was silent, its other two occupants in another part of it.

Nothing had taken Mihawk by surprise in a long time, so he simply turned to look at the pale ghost that was creeping over his shoulder. Face to face, it smiled its big, dumb smile at him.

"Have you seen that dumbass?" The ghost asked.

Mihawk backed away slightly. The ghost had spoken with its creator's voice, something he was unaware it could do. In fact, he was sure the ghost girl had never been able to speak through the hollows until now.

"What are you doing?" He questioned back, his expression neutral.

"Looking for Zoro. Sometimes he wanders off, I don't get why."

"No, I haven't seen him," Mihawk said.

Frowning, the hollow drifted away from him, floating about the room as if Zoro was hiding behind one of the giant vases.

"This is a new technique." It was a statement more than a question.

"Yup. I can't be bothered to project my whole self to look for him anymore, and if I send my hollows he ignores them. But he can't ignore my voice! So I've worked to project only that and send many hollows to many places at the same time." The ghost sing-sang, looping in the air in apparent pride.

Mihawk's gaze went back to the book. The hollow floated in and out the crystal windows, surveying the grounds below. For having lost the Strawhat swordsman, the girl was complaining very little. Mihawk threw a glance at the grandfather clock in the corner and noticed that it was almost time for dinner. Perhaps that was the reason for all this fuzz.

Before going back to reading, Mihawk commented idly, "You do a lot of things for that man's sake."

The hollow turned abruptly to him, staring blankly. "Of course! He's such a hassle!" It waited for an answer, but it never came. Shrugging, the hollow went through a wall to search elsewhere.


	4. Chapter 4

It started with awe, the moment Zoro started his training under Mihawk, at the steps of the castle.

A run, a jump, and Zoro had leapt into a fight with the humandrill's toughest warrior. He swung his swords in unison, metal grinding on metal, recoiling and colliding again with a strength that could cut air itself. The day Zoro could defeat the giant beast, which had learned all its skills from Mihawk himself, was the day his training would be complete.

And that day was very far away. Perona was not a conventional fighter; relying on brute strength was stupid in her opinion, but she had her skills and she'd known the convenience of strong allies. Watching Zoro fight –although he was so quick that she had trouble following some movements– it was obvious Mihawk's skills were far superior, even when they were only being imitated by a beast. Perona grimaced when Zoro received a nasty slash. But the man got up, stepping forward, dodging to the side, keeping up the fight steadily through his wounds.

Perona had never seen someone fight like that. There was something else in Zoro's movements; each swing of the sword had force pushing it that wasn't just the need to defend or kill. That was all she'd ever seen of sword fighting—this selfish thing that served to separate the winners from losers. Maybe it was the way he was pushing himself despite his body's state, or the sheer strength of his moves, but right now she saw him as selfless. Selfless fighting… fighting with a purpose. He was fighting for someone else.

"You'll dress his wounds when he's done," Mihawk said to her without taking his sight off Zoro.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, the fact that it was a command not registering in her mind.

Of course, Zoro lost. Mihawk made sure to scare off the humandrills and then left back to the castle, because Zoro was lying on the floor bleeding and there was no point in getting him up to continue. As he turned away he stated the first lesson: "Too impatient. I'm not talking about avoiding fights when you're wounded; that's left to discretion. I mean your state of mind: it affects your movements."

Perona floated pass Mihawk, curious as to how Zoro had taken that statement.

"What the hell are you smiling for?" She shouted. The green-haired man was sporting a bloody-toothed grin as he lay eagle-spread on the spot he'd been defeated.

Zoro just shook his head, his breathing getting heavy from the strain on his body. "Two years. Only two years and I'll…" and he couldn't say any more.

Perona stared. He was smiling even though he'd been defeated and badly wounded— all for the sake of someone else. Usually she would say it was not worth the trouble; when Thriller Bark was going under, she'd decided to bolt, because like hell she was going to stay there for Absalom and Hogback.

And she wanted to tell him so: He was gaining nothing by doing this, only scars.

But he was smiling despite it all, and it kept her from saying it.

"Come, let's go fix you," she said in resignation.


	5. Chapter 5

It started with gratefulness, nearly two months after he started his training as Dracule Mihawk's pupil.

In that time he took the habit of going to the castle's terrace to rest after his long drills. The circular terrace was below ground level, built on pillars above the lake behind the castle. It was one of the few places where the sun shone unobstructed by dark trees or twisted mountains and the breeze hit constantly, making the water lap against the stone.

It was the closest he had to the deck of the Thousand Sunny, even if the smell of the sea and the swaying of the ship were missing, so he slept more comfortably there.

.

"Stay put," Perona scolded him. He grunted in return as she stitched a deep cut in his arm. They sat at the top of the terrace's stairs, the water only a few steps below.

Zoro leaned his face on the palm of his hand. "Just let me sleep," he said. He knew what she would say in response: 'you're bleeding. Let me fix this,' in an annoyed tone. As Zoro looked at nothing in particular, feeling the tickle of alcohol on raw skin, he thought that he had gotten used to the ghost girl.

He didn't question peoples' motives much; everyone had their reasons for doing things, and he could respect determination. Most of the time. But to him it had been clear why Perona had helped him when he was about to die: she just wanted a servant to torture and to support her lazy whims.

Or…at least he thought her motives had been clear.

Zoro stole a glance at her. Her face was close to his as she adjusted the stitching on his arm.

She had managed to keep him alive, but even he could tell she was a clumsy medic, and that at the beginning she had mended him on the fly. Maybe he had grown so used to Chopper's expertise that he now noticed these things. Perona fastened bandages so hard he barely could move in them, she spilled medicine, had trouble cleaning wounds (she complained it was gross). But the fact was he owed her his life. And continued to do so even now.

The stitching on his arm was done. Evenly done, well tied, clean, it was a huge improvement over the awkward mends she had done at the beginning. Passing his fingers besides the scar he nodded, acknowledging her effort. She gave a heavy sigh as she began to put her tools back in a shiny black box with a red cross on it.

Zoro knew that at the bottom of it there was a book. It added most of the weight to the box, but it would stay there for as long as she had to help him. It was a first aid book.

The first time he saw it, it was by accident, when she left it on the windowsill where she liked to read. It was open to a page about treating deep cuts. On the margins of the text there were notes, things such as "Gross. But useful" written in her curvy handwriting.

That had happened some weeks ago, but if he thought about it her skills had been improving since long before.

Until then he had wondered why she hadn't left long ago. Finicky and high-maintenance, she had nothing to gain from him anymore. It didn't hit him until he traced his fingers on the scribbled page: she was staying to help him.

When he saw Luffy's secret message in that photo, it was clear to Zoro what was to come: two long years in a strange, strange land. Since then he was putting all his energy into his training, forgetting about how long it would take and considering this a necessary step to become what Luffy –and he himself– needed to be. He tried to concentrate on only that. His crewmate's absence was still felt.

It seemed he'd grown used to not being alone. But the scribbles on those pages meant that…in reality, he wasn't. And for that, he was grateful. The days would count down to the time he reunited with his crew. In the meanwhile, he would spend that countdown with her.

Sighing to disperse his meandering thoughts, Zoro stretched and laid down on his side.

"Your head is on my dress." He heard Perona say, and felt the tug of the fabric on his cheek.

"Just let me sleep," he said. He meant for her to give one big tug and leave him alone there.

Instead, she sighed and let him sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Briefly, she considered poisoning him. Now that he was awake he was more a hassle than the servant she expected him to be. He had even shredded the Bearsy costume she had made!

Even now that she had told him where she had put his swords (in his room) he was running around the castle, looking for them. Every once in a while he passed in front of the kitchen, where she was trying to cook, and hearing him shuffle in front of the door was beginning to annoy her.

"Your sense of direction is really terrible!" she yelled at him once.

"Shut up," he panted and kept running.

Perona banged the ladle on the cooking pot, trying to get the goop stuck on it back in the mix. It had been a long time since she cooked something. Actually she couldn't remember if she ever had, but she was sure she could do it, even if the stew-thing she'd done was starting to bubble weirdly.

Her thoughts went back to the swordsman, who sounded like he was roaming close to the kitchen. She could hear his footsteps. It really was annoying. She had told him: his swords were in his room. She'd only done it because she figured that if he found a way out, he could get her back to Thriller Bark and then she would ditch him and get back to her life. Why, then, hadn't he found his stupid room again?

Well, he had just woken up from a long rest from his wounds. Maybe his disorientation was because he hadn't eaten anything since he woke up. Or one could say that she hadn't fed him, she thought as she poked a carrot in the stew. Oh, small detail, that.

After some time she lowered the heat of the stove and left the stew to cool down, sitting herself on a chair and turning into a hollow to go find the swordsman. She found him going through a row of doors, and decided to 'surprise' him by sneaking into the next door he would open.

He startled, cursing at her. "Leave me alone!" he spat, while she followed him down the corridor, laughing.

"Aw, all I really wanted was to tell you I made some food. It's in the kitchen,"

"I don't want your food."

She gasped and her smile turned into a frown. Quickly floating to intercept him, she stopped him in his tracks. "What do you mean by that?" She demanded, her voice dropping from its usual sweet tone. "You're obviously in need of food. You haven't eaten in days and it's making you useless to me, so go!" She thrust a finger in the direction of the kitchen.

Bad idea; he went in the complete opposite direction.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To the kitchen."

"It's _this_ way!"

Seeing that guy so disoriented was starting to depress her. In the end he managed to follow her to the kitchen. Upon entering she had to rush back into her body and jump to put out the stove fire because the cooking pot was boiling out of control.

The castle's kitchen was a cavernous place, quite large, with bare stone walls and brick arches, low ceiling and dozens of assorted utensils hanging from it. "What happened here?" Zoro asked from the doorway.

"I cooked," Perona said matter-of-factly, oblivious to the fact that he meant why there were bags of grain or flour spilled on the counter and badly chopped onions not far from that. A spice rack seemed to have been ransacked but ultimately left unused, and frankly the black smoke coming from the stove was worrying.

He said nothing and sat at a dark wood table.

Finding two bowls and spoons, Perona served the stew in them and brought them to the table. Only then she noticed the serious stare the swordsman was giving her. Strange; it wasn't accusatory or mocking, and for the lughead she was positive he was, it even seemed pensive. What was he evaluating of her? She frowned and pushed his plate towards him.

The moment was ruined when a small chuckle escaped him as a smirk spread on his lips. "Thanks," he said, accepting the food.

"Just eat up," she huffed, blushing in anger. Damn; how had she ended up serving _him_?

He took the spoon and dipped in. Perona watched him silently, twirling her thumbs, as he took his first gulp. He took three mouthfuls in quick succession, confirming her suspicions that he had been famished, but he scrunched his face and had to force himself to swallow.

"Humph, it can't be that bad." Perona crossed her arms when the swordsman stuck out his tongue out in disgust.

"Shit, try it yourself and see how you like it. You're the one who made it, even."

Perona sat up straighter, grasping her spook and looking at her bowl. Really, it couldn't be that bad—although it _had_ given her some trouble. How bothersome; usually she had someone else do it for her and that was how she liked it.

The stew stared bubble-y up at her.

She took the spoon and, opening her mouth wide, plunged in a whole mouthful. Making the exact same face he had, she forced herself to swallow. What had she done? How could food go so _wrong?_ Slowly, dejectedly, her head dropped and her forehead came to rest just besides her bowl. She had defeated herself.

"Is there any booze?"

Without bothering to look up, Perona pointed over her shoulder to a cabinet.

Sometime later, despite everything, Zoro had eaten his entire portion, Perona's, and drunk some good three bottles of beer. She had not touched one thing; instead she watched him power through the meal with a mix of surprise and mild discomfort.

"I don't mind. I've eaten rice balls off the floor, this is nothing," Zoro said as ways of explanation. She made a face.

"Tch, you'd starve on the first day," he said, standing up to leave. "How _did_ you fare?" he stopped, raising an eyebrow at her.

At first she didn't answer, glaring up at him. Then he turned his head to look around and soon located the trashcan filled to the brim with empty cans of food. He rolled his eyes and went towards the exit.

The castle was starting to feel oppressive. Too cold, echo-y and empty. A ridiculous mess of corridors, rooms and pretentiousness that, if he had his swords, he'd have busted out of long ago. Weaponless, however, the old portraits hanging from the walls and the slight layer of dust (it indicated the place had been empty for a while, but not too long) gave him a sense of foreboding he was inclined to heed.

"We wouldn't have starved, though. There's a pantry and even a cold room full of meat. Really gross." Perona's floating form sneaked up beside him, almost startling him again. He managed to save face. Instead he narrowed his eyes. A fully-stocked kitchen in an empty castle and barren kingdom?

"Who owns this place…?" Zoro wondered aloud.

"Me…"Perona sighed wistfully. "Or at least I'd wish,"

"You've got some weird taste….you…"

"Perona. Ghost Princess Perona." She put a hand on her hip, floating over him and resting her umbrella on her shoulder. He walked right past her.

"Whoever's the actual owner could come back at any minute," Zoro commented, mostly to himself.

"How rude! At least introduce yourself!"

He stopped in his track, looking back. Briefly it seemed like he would give her lip, but his gaze relaxed. She may be screechy and a pain in the ass and the worse cook he knew, but he couldn't deny that, at least, he was fed. "Zoro. Roronoa Zoro."

* * *

><p>an: quite a while ago, user Henna89 asked for me to write Perona cooking. And hey, I thought it was a cute idea. I hope you like it (or at least are still reading lmao. I'm sorry for the slow updates. I've been in a state of constant stress for the last few months, but it's letting up)

More updates to come! And I'm gonna go back and edit chpts. 4 and 5. I feel they're pretty important and I don't want them to be sloppy. check back in a day or two for that. As always, thank you so much for all your reviews and follows!


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't sing, not really. He muttered the words and let them rise and fall to their natural rhythm while he cleaned his swords at the end of the day each day, but he hadn't sung since the last time his crew had had a party.

Since they had left Thriller Bark, it was.

After Brook joined the nights had been full of music, the skeleton man preforming impromptu concerts. Mixed with Sanji's food and their stash of rum, they exploded into parties. While Zoro had still been ailing from his bargain against Bartholomew Kuma and zealously guarding the secret from anyone who asked, he didn't skip on the booze, and he sat on a corner of the deck and watched as the others partied the nights away.

But the song that stuck with Zoro the most was not the cheery pirate shanty that the musician always went back to. Brook did not like the night much, but he liked to spend as much of the day outside as he could, so he performed one last, slow version of Bink's Sake during twilight. It was to that rhythm that Zoro recited the words.

That train of thought ended up going in circles too often, so back to Thriller Bark. He looked over his shoulder to where Perona had fallen asleep on the couch of his room. She had laid down in a way in which her feet stuck out over the armrest; they were covered by a pair of fluffy pink slippers she'd made for herself. The book she had been reading was covering her face.

Shaking his head, he put his cleaning materials down and went to take it away from her, because it was making her breath funny.

Rambunctious people seemed to have a tendency to look peaceful when they slept, probably making up for all the grief they caused when awake. Perona didn't smile in her sleep, but she also didn't scowl, which was an improvement. She looked as normal as she could; no huge dark eyes peering at him, just long lashes almost hidden by a fringe of pink hair. It slanted on her forehead and pooled on the nook of her shoulder.

Zoro caught himself staring and shook his head, putting the book on the coffee table and returning to his swords. Well, he thought, he shouldn't really have a problem appreciating things that were pretty.

.

"What is that song?" He heard her voice some time later, when he only had one more sword to clean.

"Bink's Sake. Why?"

"It woke me up." She didn't sound angry, though.

"Sorry."

She approached him, sitting on his bed while he worked on the floor. For the three months they'd spent together they had taken this end-of-day routine, at first because Perona was overseeing he didn't mess up his bandages and lately because it was simply something to do. Zoro suspected she just found Mihawk even more boring, so if she had fallen asleep with a book on her face he really didn't want to know what would happen if she had to spend time with Hawkeye.

"It reminds me of Thriller Bark, for some reason." Perona commented, climbing up on the bed and looking through the huge glass windows.

Zoro stared ahead. Should he mention that he'd learned the song right after they'd defeated her boss?

"Though the lyrics are too cheery, so I don't like it," she said.

Nah, he shouldn't.

"Except that line, "We shall never meet again," She sing-sang it. "It's oddly sad."

Again he paused, thinking it over. "You're right. But I guess that is how many pirate stories end."

"Good point. Huh, you can be thoughtful."

He didn't feel like clarifying that this wasn't something he thought, it was something he knew. He ran a hand lightly on the length of Kuina's scabbard, and changed the subject.

"How did you end up in that place, anyway?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged in response.

"Wow, it's been such a long time." She folded her legs beneath her, arranging her skirt. "I was the first Zombie General Master Moria recruited, you know."

"Really now," he said absentmindedly, reassuming his work.

"All the better. Living in that circus was too much work."

At that Zoro stopped. "Circus? You worked in a circus?" He paused. "You worked?

"Oh yeah, in costuming, for the animals. But when I was around nine I got angry at the ringmaster because I had had it with him being a sleazy jerk I stole his prized devil fruit and ate it out of spite. He was planning on selling it at some point, I think. Anyway, after that I was chased out." She shrugged. "I don't miss it at all, but I liked the calliope music that played eerily into the night, and dressing up the bears with big bows. They were so cute; they didn't speak or give me grief."

"Yeah, that sounds like you."

"Luckily I met Master Moriah soon after, and he said he'd get me all the servants possible, so obviously I joined!"

"Wait… soon after?" Zoro turned to look at her. "You've been with that creep since you were a little girl?"

"Well, yes. What was I supposed to do? Live like a beggar?"

For a moment he only watched her. This question had gotten a bit out of control, though he should have figured; she liked to talk. "Somehow I thought you'd always been a spoiled brat." He smirked.

"Oh, I could have! I wasn't always at that circus, you know. I had every dress I wanted and ate well and everything before that. But it's not like I care, because with Moria I got a whole wing of a castle, and my own garden, and could dress my zombies in whatever thing I wanted." Her tone didn't give away much; for her to keep it so neutral and only slightly annoyed was a little strange, but it gave Zoro enough information to keep his mouth shut.

Then her voice dropped dramatically. "Then your crew ruined it," she growled in his ear. He turned to find her face threateningly close as she leaned over the edge of his bed like a cat about to pounce.

"Tch." He leaned away from her. "If you mess with the bull you get the horns. What did you expect, you're a pirate; it's a question of strength."

She fumed, slapping the mattress and springing off the bed. As she stomped away he called after her, "Come on, like you're not having fun here," with a smirk on his lips.

Quickly she raised a hand as if to summon a hollow at him. He almost cursed, but she stopped herself. Giving him a glare she asked, "Are you?" and left.

.

So, was he?

Well, that had been a strangely direct question coming from her. Zoro thought that he would have preferred the hollows, and he grumbled the rest of the time he spent cleaning his swords.

It wasn't that he missed his crew in the traditional way. To him, it was more like he had been interrupted; it felt like a nuisance but their separation had given him a chance to improve. A bitter pill to swallow, that of having to beg the man who'd defeated you to train you, but one Zoro had to take. Sometimes, though, the things he'd felt when he found out what had happened to Luffy and his inability to help or get back to him quickly enough were a bit too raw for his liking, and those were the times he pushed himself to extremes that left him with actual wounds.

As for her: a shadowy castle-island, a capricious little girl standing by bad people while they did bad things; he could see it clearly, but he was not judging. Like his own past actions were saintly, being a pirate hunter. So the spoiled girl had worked for it? He couldn't criticize her determination.

Of course rubbing her crew's defeat would anger her—she was _her_. Zoro scowled as he stalked the halls of the castle, looking for Perona, thinking that if it had been anyone else he'd have let them run off, but, well, she was her. No matter how silly it was that she got upset when things didn't go her way, he didn't want to build on a grudge when she'd helped him so much. But damn, did she have to ask a question like that?

So, was he?

Perona got lost sometimes, but having gotten used to the castle somewhat, he had less trouble finding her now. That night she was at her parlor, sitting at one of many large, elegant sofas with a platter of cookies at her side while she sewed something. Lowly, absentmindedly, she was singing.

It was a habit of hers, singing her so-called accursed songs, which Zoro had come to learn was a very appropriate name. This one was about the ghost of a soldier who had lost an arm during a battle and kept on playing the trumpet anyways and bled to death.

Trying not to roll his eyes, Zoro knocked lightly on the door.

"What do you want?" She asked, glaring.

"To answer your question."

Her expression softened, taken aback, and she stopped sewing. He took the opportunity to enter the room. "And I brought you tea." That confused her even more, until he pulled out the small packages from a pocket.

"Oh," she said flatly. After a moment of thought she took them and stood up to go to the little stove in the room.

He flopped on the couch. Neither said anything for a moment as she prepared the water for herself. While it heated she went back to sit near him, crossing her arms.

"This isn't too bad for me," he said, getting down to the point. "You know why?"

"Because you're getting stronger for your crew." She shrugged.

He couldn't remember if he'd ever told her that. "No," he grumbled. "Training's not about having fun, it's about—"

She blinked at him, pursing her lips.

Slumping against the backrest, he went back to the point. "It's because you're here." It wasn't really a confession; he'd assumed she'd figured that out too. But her eyes widened, and she slowly uncrossed her arms.

Still a little warily, she said, "What do you mean?"

It was his turn to shrug. "That at least I'm not stuck with Dracule Mihawk alone. I'd have asked him to train me either way but I'm not gonna strike a friendship with the man I am going to defeat. Oh, and this castle sucks. You and I may have been enemies, but we're here together and you're…not that bad."

That was all he was willing to say out loud. It wasn't an apology for what he'd said before, but he was being sincere, and it seemed to appease her. Sinking a little into his seat, he breathed out; for some reason it felt like a load had been lifted off his chest. Was it just because he'd said out loud what his thoughts always went back to? He shook his head; it didn't really matter. He turned to look at her, waiting for her answer.

"Well, you're terrible," she said.

"Why, you…!"

"But." she held out a finger, almost to his lips. "It is a terribleness I can handle. And you're right; I'd be really bored without it."

.

The night wore on, but neither of them went to sleep, no matter how tired he was from training.

She admitted that despite her resentment towards his crew, she had been about to leave anyway. He knew; that was how she bumped into Kuma. She would have found somewhere else to be, getting it done by herself. For some reason he kept thinking back to how he liked the fact she could get things done by herself, unwavering in her will to get what she wanted.

That what she wanted right now was to help him was a strange thing, to be indebted to someone like her for reasons only she knew. He didn't feel like asking; he was content assuming that she had a capacity for kindness. It made them similar. And why did he like that idea?

She drank her tea and ultimately let him get to a wine bottle she kept on a cupboard. While he sipped directly from the bottle he listened to her talk of West Blue and other things.

At some point she asked him how the rest of Bink's Sake went. It really did remind her of Thriller Bark. Zoro thought that perhaps she had caught echoes of Brook's violin while he played in the island or the nearby seas. He kept quiet about that and humored her request.

Somehow between the sleepiness and the wine they both ended up singing the cheerier version of the song, a bit louder than when they sang privately for themselves. And despite the fact that they were away from what they were used to, two strangers in a strange land, it was good to sing with someone else once again.

* * *

><p>AN: yeaah this kinda got away from me. And of course, it's rampant with headcanons that use what little I could gather of Perona's past. It's longer than what I originally thought it would be, and I just hope it's in-character enough.


	8. Chapter 8

A warmer weather had rolled onto kurainaga, making the air inside the castle stuffy and elongating the days, which meant that the men of the castle spent more time training outside.

Perona sat on a broken pillar outside on the castle's side courtyard, gathered under the shadow of her umbrella, fanning herself as she watched Mihawk and Zoro spar. Her large eyes carefully followed their movements. Well, mostly Zoro's.

Perhaps it was only the heat, but she was a bit on edge, having been ever since a few nights ago, when Zoro had barged into her room and, spreading his arms, said, "Hit me with your best shot!"

She froze, half-way through wrapping a lock of hair on a roller. "What," she said flatly.

"Go on, do it. Use your ghosts on me."

"No! What's with you? This is weird, get out of my room!"

"You're calling me weird?" He laughed, even when she got up and tried to push him out. Taller and heavier than her, she couldn't even make him budge.

She stomped her foot. She couldn't even use her hollows on him because that would be giving him what he wanted. "You're acting weird." From the way he stood with his hands on his hips to his cocky grin she had a feeling she wouldn't like where this was going. He'd always hated her hollows, so frankly, besides being a strange request she was beginning to fear he had snapped.

But half her hair was still down and she was tired, so letting out a heavy sigh and still eyeing him suspiciously –his grin widened, knowing he'd won—she raised her hand and summoned not one but three white ghosts. They swiftly went through his chest.

He remained standing, puffing his chest in apparent pride. Cupping her face in horror, she yelled, "What's going on?"

"Devil Fruit abilities don't affect me anymore," he said, and laughed as he left Perona with an expression of horror on her face.

After that little joke of a way of letting her know he was improving in his training, Perona had tried to catch him off guard and use her hollows on him, but he managed to resist them each time.

After nagging Mihawk about it she came to learn he was teaching Zoro a technique called Haki— or more accurately, how to channel the innate force in every living thing to better their fighting or defend themselves.

Then she nagged him to teach her too. If she didn't catch up she would be at a disadvantage, and that did _not_ sit well with her, but Mihawk ignored her.

So she sat, and watched their training sessions more intently than before.

The training apparently consisted of pushing Zoro to his limits, and Perona didn't fancy going through something similar. There had to be a way to develop her abilities so they could match his—somehow, at least so she wouldn't be so…vulnerable. Not that he had—that they had reasons to attack each other anymore, she supposed, but there was still a small reflex inside her that told her she could be even better.

Throwing a tantrum until her abilities improved was out of the question, sadly, so she decided to force them. Standing in the middle of her parlor in the depths of the night when the castle was darkest and the moon highest she worked to create more Hollows than before, and extend them further. That way, her network of information grew and she came to know the borders of Kurainaga Island without even leaving her room.

But more importantly she was tired of having to leave her body behind to be able to float. She was the Ghost Princess; how could she continue to be a phony ghost?

Once she had improved her Hollows, she set to work on herself. Standing in the dead center of her room, she extended her arms to her side, and took a deep breath. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she willed her powers to flow through her, to give her the properties of her hollows and her astral form. It took several nights (and a lot of frustration) but finally she felt herself go as light as her projection, and slowly her feet separated from the ground. Gasping, her concentration broke and she fell flat on her butt. Luckily the swordsman was resting from his wounds and didn't see _that_. A few more tries, though, and she'd gotten the hang of it.

The next time Zoro annoyed her she unleashed a Negative Hollow on him that nearly brought him to his knees. His face contorted as he tried to suppress the words of self-pity.

"You're not the only one who can improve," she taunted him, her nose nearly touching his as he glared up at her.

Hawkeyes had seen that display. Zoro was mad at her for weeks.

That was, until this sparring session. Her eyes followed the movements of the men's lightning-fast swords as best she could, but the way Mihawk slashed deeply at Zoro's shoulder was clear to her. Her heart nearly stopped and she stood up, yelling, "Enough!"

Mihawk stood tall before the downed Zoro.

"I can still go on," Zoro said through gritted teeth.

"Your arm could be damaged permanently. How are you gonna wield three swords with just one arm?" Perona countered, floating up to him.

Mihawk sheathed his own sword –a regular sized one; he insisted Zoro wasn't ready for his main one– "I suggest you listen to your ghost woman, Roronoa. It's getting dark either way, and I'm tiring of training you for today."

Zoro scowled all the way to the infirmary, but Perona took him there by having some Hollows support him. He sat on the edge of the bed, now allowing himself to breathe heavily from the exertion and clutching at his left flank, where the pain of the harsh wound had spread.

"You're butting in too much on my training," he growled when Perona started treating the wound on his shoulder.

"Oh shut up. You know I'm right. Besides, you've been pushing yourself way too much. Even Hawkeye's told you to slow down because otherwise training is ineffective. When you started learning that Haki thing you got overexcited."

"Yeah, and you got scared," he shot back.

"What?" She glared at him. Was it her imagination, or had there been an accusatory edge in his voice?

He winced from the force she put on the grip she had on his shoulder. "Tch, you went and freaked out when I started being able to defend myself from Devil Fruit powers for no reason."

She huffed. "I wasn't scared; I just can't let my guard down! Someday we may be enemies again, so what was I supposed to do? 'We're pirates'" she mimicked his voice. "You've said it yourself.

The strange grunting noise he made in response confused her a little. "What was that?"

"You didn't need to—nothing." He stopped himself, grumbling. Sitting with his elbow resting on his knee, he said nothing as Perona worked the thin curved needled and special thread through the wound. She worked carefully, although her mind was pondering. A strange thought occurred to her, and it seemed appropriate enough to mess with him.

"Or do you mean…" she said softly when she finished stitching, a smile playing on her lips as she leaned on the suture to cut off the remaining of the thread with her teeth. "That I've become a person you wouldn't need to fight?" she said before snapping the thread.

Well, it certainly threw him off, judging by the wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. She stuck out her tongue at him, glowering at him before gathering her instruments and getting up to leave.

"Rest!" She ordered and only briefly noticed a curious blush on his face before slamming the door behind her.

* * *

><p>This chapter's a bit messy, I think, but I'm trying to build up to something.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Days later he still felt a shiver run down his spine.

He leaned against one of the garden walls, drinking some beer, wondering if it had been her words or her breath on his skin that had caused such a strange impression.

The first thing. Definitely the first thing, Zoro concluded, because the other option was unnerving. He didn't think he'd ever…

He scratched at the cut on his shoulder. It itched so much; maybe that was why he couldn't get it out of his mind and if only he could get it to heal faster—he had to forcibly stop himself from scratching it any longer, because at that rate he would reopen it, and then he'd have to go to her to mend it again.

He took another gulp of beer.

There were not many people he _wouldn't_ raise his swords against, despite all the time he had traveled the seas. If the need arose, he would have even fought Luffy, at least right up to the point where Zoro kneeled in front of Mihawk and begged him to train him for the sake of his captain. And even then, if Luffy somehow wasted Zoro's efforts, there would be blood. There was only a small handful of people who had walked up to him, spread their arms wide and bore themselves so defenseless that he could not attack.

And Perona, in the short amount of time they had spent together, had somehow walked into that inner circle, if only to stand at the edge. And if he pictured it like that (he thought, as he kept drinking and a little more color came onto his face); her standing in front of him with the half-smile she had come to adopt now that they were not strangers from each other, and that (annoying, cocky, _familiar_) look in her eyes, he got the urge to extend his hand and bid her closer.

It wasn't even such a short time; it was getting closer to being the same lapse of time he'd spent with his crew.

So yes for fuck's sake, she was right! He thought as he flung the empty beer bottle and it rolled away from him; he wouldn't hurt her. He had not meant to scare her.

And yet—and yet it was not actually the same. They had not been on a ship that flew; had not defied the World Government together. He'd not fought to avenge her dead mother, or to protect her. Likewise, she did not know much about his own past... not that he thought it was anybody's business, and not like there was much in it. Just death. Bare, sudden, common death.

So still they stood apart, the confusing mechanics of 'closeness' evading him. Because he had not fought any of those grand fights for Luffy either. He followed his captain's strength, his determination; but it had taken something more than that to make Zoro think of him with fondness and not only with respect.

Zoro rested his arm on his knee, tired of thinking. Above the castle wall he could see the pink-ish tint of the darkening sky, the blush disappearing as the clouds drifted on and the sun sunk.

He wondered where the rest of his crew was, who they'd met, what they were doing. What sorts of little talks —in old castles, in jungles, mountains, submarines— they were having, and if they were in any way similar to the ones he had with her, so that he knew he was not going down a path he'd never thought about before.


	10. Chapter 10

"A swordsman cannot expect to be good just by the quality of his swords," Mihawk said, continuing his mealtime lecture. "His abilities must grow independently, so that he is worthy of a good sword."

Zoro answered between mouthfuls. "I know that."

He and Perona sat opposite to each other at the dinner table. Some chairs away from them, at the head of the table, Mihawk glared at Zoro.

"Of course you do. But so far, I've let you train with your three swords, and as good as they are, _you_ are going through a period of change. As weapons, they can feel that. But they are not going to accommodate your clumsiness. They have a standard, and you cannot yet rise to it. In short, you're not good enough for them."

Zoro slowly put his fork down, not taking the next bite. Perona, who had not been paying much attention until then, looked up at him, and then threw a glance at Mihawk.

"So, I think it's time you relinquish them." Mihawk said.

Zoro frowned. "What?"

In a flash and a slash a dagger embedded itself in the middle of the table, toppling the salt and pepper. It took Perona a second to realize Mihawk had pitched it at the spot.

"Geez!" she admonished him, unfurling herself from the protective stance she had taken.

Mihawk did not break his stare with Zoro. "Until you can effectively defend yourself from me using only _that, _you will not get your swords back."

.

The image of the dagger glinting in the chandelier light remained in Perona's mind as all three of them went up to Zoro's room, to have him give Mihawk the swords. Once there, Zoro picked them up from their stand, his shoulders tense and his movements deliberate.

When he handed the first one to Mihawk, he said, "Give them to her." Motioning to Perona, he addressed her: "I task you with keeping them away from him."

"That won't be too hard. I could just stick them in a random room and he'd never find them."As she shrugged she heard Zoro grunt. He shoved a scabbard at her. "But why can't he just leave them alone here?" Perona asked, taking another katana in her arms.

"Because they must be out of sight and out of mind. You must do as if these never existed."

Instead of handing her the white sword, Zoro retracted it. "I can't do that," he tried to say evenly, keeping the sword to his chest.

The other two stared at him. Dracule's expression was much more impassive than hers. She simply observed how Zoro gripped the sword, looking away from them with a deep frown. He exhaled loudly, trying to snap himself back to reality. Finally he handed it to Perona, depositing it gently in her hand.

"Of course the experiences you have had with them are important, but you must focus on the present. We start tomorrow." Mihawk turned on his heels.

"Relax," Perona said as she turned to leave with Mihawk. "I'll take good care of them."

Zoro could only give her a half-smile.

Silently, she and Mihawk left him to rest for the day. It was dusk. The halls of the castle darkened as they walked through them; her dress swayed with her steps, and he, like the owner of the place he was, walked with his hands behind his back.

"Do keep them hidden. I do not think your bedroom or parlor will suffice," he said.

"Yeah, yeah. But why not keep them yourself?"

"He trusts you more. It wouldn't be fitting for me to hold on to them, when his ambition seems to be directly tied to them. Especially… this one."

He pointed at the white one. Perona nodded, having noticed it too, even before today.

"And I…" He closed his mouth, then immediately continued, "I should not be the keeper of the swords that may or may not defeat me."

Not taking his sight from ahead, he excused himself, and Perona watched his back as he walked away to a darker part of the castle.

.

A small storage room with a window to the forest was the place she deemed appropriate to keep them. Not wanting to leave them on the floor, she found stands where to place them. They came to rest upright, proudly displayed besides the tall window.

Time passed.

Some days she got curious, and she went back to small room, usually after she'd watched an especially intense training session between the men. She sat at one end of the windowsill with the swords right in front of her, hugging her legs to herself and peering at the blades, near-unblinking.

An ambition. The white sword.

Curiosity eventually got the best of her, and although she had no idea how to handle a blade, she reached to unsheathe them. Adopting the stance she saw Zoro take –legs apart, shoulders straight, angry look on her face– she held a scabbard by her waist and pulled the long blade out.

The first one—the heaviest one, was made of beautiful black and red steel, with an elegantly carved handle. She held it by her hip, not daring to lift it higher, for it felt as if the blade had a temperament, impassive and belligerent, aware it was a deadly work of art.

The next one was cursed. She could feel it, and it made her smile; it was just like her style, though she knew better than to unsheathe it.

She used to consider weapons as mere tools, but the months spent with the most sword-nut men on earth had killed that notion. Now she could tell their quality and their nuances, and understood how they were an oddly personal possession for Zoro. She just didn't understand why. Some hidden history, maybe, like those earrings he had, which she sometimes jiggled with one finger when he was sleeping and she was bored. She wondered if the three meant something, and for a moment her heart felt heavier at the thought of those little details that made him...him.

Putting the cursed sword back on its stand with care, she picked the last one.

This, the important one. It did not look that different from the rest, and yet…

Once again, she assumed the 'samurai' pose, fixed her expression to an appropriately determined one and held the sword to her hip. In one swift move she pulled the entire blade out, the metal slicing the air. She held it above herself, and it felt as if the blade itself wished to stay high up. The midday sun streamed through the window, its rays glinting on the metal. Perona narrowed her eyes from the glare, but did not take her sight off it.

And for no reason she could conceive, she thought of the phrase "The flight of the bird", as if it was the ghost of an old song, floating in the air, brought on by her actions.

She brought the sword down, still observing it. A vague idea—a wild theory of why it was so important to Zoro forming in her mind.

"Well, at least you're in good hands," she said to it.

Realizing she had spoken to a sword, she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one had seen her moment of insanity.

She slid the blade back into the sheath and placed it on its stand again.

.

At last his success came, marked by the Humandrill's cry to retreat at the sight of the tiny dagger. Zoro was breathing with trouble, but he righted himself up with a deep breath and turned to Mihawk, who was watching from afar. "Is that good enough for you!?" Zoro yelled at the impassive-looking swordsman.

After a few seconds, Mihawk lowered his head and announced, "That is a good equivalent."

Perona broke into cheers. "You did it! I knew you could!" she waved her arms as Zoro staggered and fell on his butt, the dagger forgotten, stuck somewhere in the ground. And even through his labored breaths, he looked back at them, and Perona saw a wide, toothy, _genuine _smile she did not think she'd seen before. Not knowing what else to do, she gave him the thumbs up.

After they'd returned to the castle and Perona had taken care of Zoro's wounds, she left him resting in his room, and went to fetch his swords for him.

She fully intended to ask him about them now that the harsh training was over, and his barriers were probably down. They'd spent a lot of time together; didn't she deserve a little explanation, at least? After all she'd done for him, she thought, as she smiled to herself. If anything, she could just hold one over his head while he laid ailing; he'd take some time to recover.

Finally she reached the storage room. Filled with an unfamiliar but welcome sense of pride, she opened the door.

And her heart dropped, and color drained from her face. The storage window lay open, the wind softly blowing the rags hanging on the walls. And the swords' stand lay empty.

* * *

><p>It. Begins.<p>

Kidding, it began like 2 chapters ago. I'm pretty excited about the next few chapters, and now that I'm out for the summer I'll make my best effort to put them up in a timely manner (I swear! I just get busy with college).

As an aside, I found a song that I think fits these two pretty well! Check out 'Trouble is a Friend' by Lenka. It's not a romance song, but then again, what is traditionally romantic about these two? It has an appropriately .. mischievous tone, I think. This is important to me because apparently I ship like a 13 y/o still.


	11. Chapter 11

(An Interlude)

After their defeat at Shabody, he had been surprised to find he was alive. Unable to deflect Bartolomew Kuma's mysterious Devil Fruit powers, he had though, "This is it." But the worse thought that crossed his mind then had been: "this is it for them." So when he woke up in a strange room covered in uncomfortable bandages and sunlight shining harshly on his eyes, he was comforted to know that, at least, they lived too.

After that, finding an old enemy right beside him had not been that much of a shock.

"Well, it was for me!" Perona said once, when they were talking about the chance of ending up in the same island. While Zoro didn't make a habit of questioning circumstances, Perona's cries of "why do I have to be stuck with someone so un-cute?" had turned into odd curiosity that she now felt comfortable sharing with him, and they volleyed theories and complaints between each other, never settling on an answer.

That particular instance, she was sewing a newer, smaller version of Bearsy. "I specifically asked for a gloomy castle where I could be waited on and sing cursed songs. The hell did you ask for, that you ended here, too?"

His giant barbells clinked as he lifted them for the thousandth time. Without breaking stride, he answered, "For them to be safe." Those were not the exact words; it had not been a concrete thought. Maybe just a feeling. He couldn't name or describe it.

The conversation usually ended there, with her unable to add anything to that. Sometimes he saw her purse her lips, catch her breath, in a way that indicated she wanted to ask something, to follow up on that thought. Subtle, she was not, but she never did say anything. At a base level, he knew she understood his drive—she'd seen him bow down to Mihawk, after all. But he knew that true companionship was not as familiar to her, and how much she wished to understand… he couldn't tell.

This time, she said, "You know, I suppose it had more to do with Mihawk than… me. Well, obviously." She huffed. "It's so convenient, after all, that you get trained by him. That Kuma guy probably knew what he was doing. It could have taken you a long time to find Hawkeye, and how would you have known how strong he really was then?"

It was Zoro's turn to pause, slowly lowering the barbells until they clanged on the floor. "I fought him once before, actually."

"Whaaaat? When?" A second later, she was floating by his side. His expression, impassive at the memory, allowed for a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips upon seeing her wide eyes looking at him with such surprise.

"In East Blue—"

"East Blue! You hadn't even been to the Grand Line yet? But then that means—"

The tiny smile faded. "I was defeated, yes."

"_Obviously_." She put her hands on her hips. "How you're even alive right know, I don't know. What possessed you to challenge him before even going into the Grand Line?"

A pause. Then, he looked her in the eye. "The chance presented itself. It was something I had been preparing for all my life. I couldn't back down."

He remembered it clearly: his heart drummed wildly against his ribs as he sighted Dracule Mihawk for the first time. His body moved as if it ran on auto-pilot. The voice he had found to make his challenge with came from the center of his chest, rough and loud, calling words he had not thought he would be saying so soon.

"Even if you were completely unprepared." Perona crossed her arms.

"I was arrogant." He put the barbells down, cracked his back bones and went to sit at the windowsill. "I was even surprised when he managed to block my attacks. Can you believe that? I didn't know enough."

As if she had been weighed down, she landed and paced towards him. Her smirk was a friendly challenge. She shoved a finger at the beginning of his chest scar. "I see now. You've grown a little since then, haven't you? The guy who blindly went into battle against a legend, asking that man to train you. That's pretty wise."

"Being a swordsman means examining your actions." He took her hand and gently moved it away, just to get her accusing finger off his chest. "That arrogance caused confusion and fear, when I realized I couldn't live up to it. And I'm not going to let that happen ever again."

"Fear of dying?"

"Fear of not being able to fulfill my promises."

She shrugged. "Should have figured."

Deciding to rest for a while, Zoro leaned back on the windowsill and drank from his water bottle. Before the silence could slip in like it usually did, he ventured a question: "So, you joined that Warlord for convenience, right?"

"Huh? Oh… yeah." She shrugged, and went back to her sewing materials. She was currently working on the small blue hat.

"That's it? You made a ruckus when you thought he was dead, even though you were going to ditch him before."

She visibly tensed up, though she seemed to be fighting hard not to show it. Maybe that was why she never continued the conversation. "It's not like I hated him! He was a fun guy, and he ensured I had everything I wanted. I didn't want him to die!" She sighed deeply, falling quiet for a moment. "His 'death' also meant that I couldn't go back to Thriller Bark and have things be the same."

Zoro observed her. She glared back at him, though she had long given up on trying to make him feel guilty about Moria's defeat.

"What a pain to talk about this sorta stuff." Still, it was hard to get her to stop once she got going. "I spent my adolescence under his wing, you know. Even so, I didn't know that much about him. Sure, sure, he had a crew before, he lost it in the New World, but beats me if I know any of their names. It still pains him, but he tried to bury that. Where that left _us_," she placed a hand on her chest. "Was too much of a hassle to figure out."

She pouted dramatically, but quickly shook it off and reassumed sewing.

"I see. Not getting attached means not feeling pain when you're defeated." Zoro said, after silence had fallen between them.

"I guess." Perona said softly.

"Defense mechanism…" Zoro muttered the errant thought. He watched the water glitter in the midday light, thinking that once he became stronger, he would be able to achieve anything, protect everyone near and dear… if fate willed it so.

He frowned. "Hey, Perona…." She looked up but he only glanced at her, keeping his sight on the window. "D'you think, if I didn't use Haki you could defend yourself against me?"

"…Sure." She frowned slightly. "I've always been able to protect myself against physical attacks. With what I can do with astral projection now, I wouldn't have a problem against most people. I've been improving, you know."

"I know."

Her frown deepened. "Why do you ask?"

He met her stare. "Because if you can defend yourself against me, even at my lowest, you could protect yourself against anyone."

* * *

><p>This scene is wedged somewhere in the 'time passed' line of last chapter. It was also supposed to be a short interlude before the next yet it somehow ended at 1000 words. Mostly, I wanted to show Zoro's roundabout way of telling Perona to keep safe. He's really hard to write for me. Like, Perona can be pretty straightforward, but I struggle to keep him in character while also allowing for the speculation that has to ensue when it comes to getting him in romantic situations. I'd love feedback on that, honestly. Or how you feel I'm handling their dynamic in general. But I appreciate any kind of reviews, regardless!<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Zoro ran through the dense, dark forest of Kuraigana, lost. Following him, Perona's Hollows hid behind rocks and trees when there was a chance Zoro might see them. They covered their mouths, looking on worriedly at the disoriented swordsman. They mirrored the way their creator felt, as she herself wandered another part of the forest. Except that, outwardly, she was glowering.

He was going to get lost and end up on the moon. He was going to destroy his bandages and his wounds would reopen, she thought as she gritted her teeth. He was going to find out she had no idea where his swords were. And then what?

It was a thought she didn't want to finish. She bit her pinky nail, frowning even deeper as she reassured herself that the swords disappearing was in no way her fault. She'd taken perfectly good care of them! She even understood what they meant to him! (at least she thought she did).

But her pride wouldn't let her confess these things, even as an apology—which wasn't warranted, so it was not going to happen. Her plan was to get the swords back by herself, so she wouldn't have to explain anything, just present him with the blades and go, Here! I got them back for you, so not a word!

It was better than having to find out what he'd do if she couldn't fix this.

Perona stopped, resting her hand on a tree and gripping the handle of her umbrella. To think she would come to care about something like that. To think (but she didn't like to) that she feared more than his anger, because she knew she couldn't fight back against his disappointment. If he thought she didn't care for his ambition, would he assume she'd rather go back to being enemies?

Sometimes it seemed like that would be easier.

Somewhere else in the forest Zoro nearly fell into a hidden hole on the ground. Her Hollows saw it as if she was right beside him, and she bit her tongue to stop herself from telling him to look where he was going. Sighing and looking up to the darkening sky, she reassumed her search.

The only good thing about that day was that night was taking over, and at night she came alive. Just as she had when the clock at Thriller Bark rang midnight in and she rose from her comfort to take care of their ship. That seemed so long ago, so far away, but the full moon shining on the twisted mountains and the sounds of the old forest made her feel in her element, and when she found whatever had taken the swords –because they _had _been stolen– it would regret ever crossing her.

.

There was no more going back to the castle for the night, so Zoro made a campfire. The sole source of warmth, he sat before it and couldn't do much more than watch the flames dance. Mihawk's blows, even when mimicked by the humandrills, were nothing to laugh at. They hurt badly even now, and he hated to admit that his wounds had been winding him down ever since he stepped out of the castle. Putting his hand on the bandages on his flank he felt them damp with fresh blood.

She was going to have his head for that. Or at least his ear.

But he wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for her. She disappeared without a word, right after she told him she'd give him his swords back. He had caught a glimpse on one of her Hollows hovering over the forest hours later, and that was when he realized she had left the castle.

What the hell was she doing? Zoro sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had suspicions, none appealing— or coherent. If she'd messed up with his swords somehow he'd—he'd…. He didn't know what he'd do. She would have to tell him what was going on and then he'd figure something out.

Resting his back against a tree, he looked up at the dark sky that peeked from between the leafs. Trusting someone that way… was hard.

This was not—it was not like other times. They may have been enemies once, but there was a debt, a gratefulness he couldn't ignore. And yet his instincts kept making him envision sour scenarios that he wasn't sure how to end.

The forest, for its part, was quiet. There was the occasional hoot of an owl, but he had not come across a Humandrill in all this time. Not that he was complaining, but it was odd. He still had Mihawk's stupid dagger, and for now that would suffice if trouble arose.

He slept for some time without meaning to, soothed by the breeze among the branches.

.

A shiver ran down his spine. Recognizing it as his still-developing Haki sense, he snapped awake, expecting something to be lurking in the shadows. What he wasn't expecting was a Hollow floating right beside his face.

"Gah!" He punched at it, his fist going through. As he sprung to his feet, he came face to face with it. On the other side of the forest, Perona froze.

"What are you doing?" He yelled, squaring off.

"I…" the Hollow began. "Uh,"

"Why are you running around the forest when you said you'd get my swords back to me?"

Far away, Perona retailaited, her voice coming through the Hollow, "What is it with _you_! You should be resting! Look at you, your wounds are reopening, after I took such care of them!"

She had been trying to take a look at his bandages while he slept, and had found them in the condition she had feared. Zoro's narrowed eyes stopped her from saying anything else.

"Where are my swords?" Zoro asked, each word its own statement. He took a step forward; the Hollow floated back. That small gesture made Zoro stop. He exhaled, and looked the ghost straight in the eye. Still, his voice was harsh as he said, "This isn't a game. Those things are as important to me as my life!"

The Hollow's answer—and by consequence Perona's, though he could only imagine her face—was to twist its lips in a deep pout. And after a beat, it bolted—up and above, and though Zoro tried to catch it, it slipped away into the night.

.

"Stupid! Stupid idiot!" Perona cursed as she stalked through the forest without paying attention to where she was going anymore. Her cheeks were flushed, her frown deep and her fists clenched tight. She kicked a stone in her path, sending it far. What she really wanted to do was plop down and throw a tantrum.

"What an idiot! Why can't he just let me fix this? After all I've done for him—he'd be dead, dead if it wasn't for me!" And she didn't even ask for much in return.

Finally she let herself kneel down, grabbing the flaps of her hat and pulling them down over her face, her lips twisting into a deep pout.

"Dammit," She muttered. She really could lose it— lose his trust. Worse of all, she still didn't understand why the idea made her heart sink, heavy as lead. It was something she had never had to do before: fish her heart out of the depths of her chest because of someone else.

She frowned then, trying to make herself believe it was because her pride was on the line, but it was too obvious that wasn't the truth.

On rainy days, when the sky was so dark that it looked like dusk and there was nothing to be done, she went to him. Usually at his own room, or Mihawk's gym, both of which had large windows that let the sound of the raindrops echo through the thick stone walls. She would flop down on any comfortable surface to watch him train, and, inevitably, start talking about whatever was on her mind. Talking, even to him (especially to him) was better than the silence.

As a little girl, she became used to Moriah telling her to leave him alone even if she wanted company— couldn't she see he was taking a nap? It hadn't bothered her, not _really_; she learned to be persistent to get what she wanted, but it didn't change the fact that her boss remained only her boss. Her other two crewmates were a doctor obsessed with a dead woman and a pervert who only ever gave her grief.

Zoro was not like any of them.

On occasion she would catch glimpses of him sitting quietly in a garden ruin, or at the terrace, and she knew then to leave him alone, because his mind was both in the past and set on the future. But on other occasions? He listened to her—even if it didn't seem like it, he would acknowledge her presence, follow her conversation, respond with his own. Laugh with her. Their snarky come backs became less and less genuine until they were left only as playful banter, once their need to be defensive lessened.

Zoro was used to living with giant pants-less men, positively negative boys, and a skinny young man with bright eyes and monstrous determination. Those were the kind of people he listened to, bickered and laughed with. He would fight for them, because he had deemed their dreams as worthy as his own. And in his pride, in his heart, they were intrinsically, irrevocably connected in a way that was foreign to Perona.

At least until she had met him. The thought that they may have forged something similar between them was making a smile try to fight its way to her lips.

So lost was she in her thoughts she almost didn't hear the rustle in the leafs on a bush nearby. Unsticking her cheeks from her hands, she turned to peer into the darkness. For all that she loved the forest and that the moon was full, this part was particularly dark, and she could not see well.

But she caught the glint of red eyes and the sound of steel being drawn, and she knew, knew at last, where to go.

Closing her umbrella and gripping Bearsy tightly, she assumed a fighting stance as the ape beast emerged from the shadows.

.

Zoro heard it— or felt it? It was hard to know for sure, but his instincts were driving him towards the center of the forest, where the ruins with the giant cross were. Even though it was the deepest part of the forest, the trees were growing scarce, and soon he was running over old cobblestones and overturned pillars, trying to find the source of the fighting noises. The giant cross finally came into view, and he leapt over a low stone wall to land at the edge of the clearing. He skidded to a halt.

Perona stood some meters away from him, surrounded by wounded or fainted humandrills. Scorched stone surfaces and small craters in the ground were evidence of the noises Zoro had heard.

"Perona!" Zoro yelled as she used Bearsy to hit away one of the last humandrill's standing. The sound the doll made against the ape was too heavy to be normal.

She turned around, patting dirt off her dress. "Oh, you finally came."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting your swords back, so not a word." She leaned down, picking up something from besides her feet. When she straightened up, she was holding Sandai Kitetsu. She extended her hand to him; Hollows sprung from it, taking the sword from her and carrying it over to Zoro.

He sprinted to it, snatching it out of the ghost's hands. "What's going on?"

"It's you who they want. I managed to snatch that one, but the humandrill who has your other swords is still waiting for you. He retreated."

Zoro grunted, stomping towards her. "What is going on, Perona?"

"How am I supposed to know? I took good care of your swords, ok? These brutes must have seen them from the window and climbed up to get them."

As she spoke, she looked on to the shadows beyond the wooden cross, from where a lumbering shape was emerging. The humandrill was not as big as their best warrior, but it was strong; it bore Wado Ichimonji and Shuusui in each hand, their scabbards tied to its waist.

"They thought this rabble could beat me," she said, and Zoro glanced at the bloodied humandrills still unconscious around her. "But you got here just in time! Now that you are here, he's going to challenge you."

Zoro stepped forward, unsheathing his katana. "Then I'll—"

"No." Perona held up a hand, stopping him. "Not only did they steal your swords, they're underestimating me."

Zoro's hand slowly lowered. He watched. The humandrill warrior had noticed the obstacle between itself and the swordsman. Baring its fangs, it crossed the two remaining swords in front of itself and charged.

Perona's shoulders slumped; she lifted her arms before her, like a ghoul come to haunt the night, and she traced arcs in the air from whence long Hollows sprung. She flung her arms forward, and the Hollows flew to meet the beast.

They collided with force, the Hollows exploding on contact. The humandrill quickly dodged, and the fight started.

Zoro's grip tightened on Sandai each time an attack from the ape should have hurt Perona but instead went through her spectral form. The beast had learned well. Its speed and strength were almost— almost as good as Zoro's. It mimicked his attacks to the letter, even the newest ones.

But Perona was better.

With a snap of her fingers she would send an army of miniature Hollows at the humandrill; it avoided some, some others exploded on him. When it got too close long Hollows would lift it up and, when Perona swung her arm down, slam it into the ground.

Zoro paced around the ruins-turned-arena, watching, a little bit in worry, a little bit in awe. The true danger was in the humandrill getting close enough to catch her off-guard and hurt her, and she couldn't use the negative Hollows because her enemy was only a beast, but Perona was quick, and commanded the Hollows to not only shield her but —Zoro suspected with caught breath and a grin— also see different angles of the battlefield through them. The movements of her whole body were so like and unlike her at the same time. She wanted to be elegant, cute; but her true strength was in those forceful, unexpected moves that showed her determination to stay in control.

Finally the humandrill started staggering, driven into a corner.

"If you think you can run away, you're wrong!" Perona yelled.

The humandrill bared its fangs, never having intended to give up the fight.

Zoro's heart sunk as Perona seemed to swoon on the spot, her body falling on her knees and haphazardly staying in a sitting position. Seizing the chance, the humandrill leapt at her.

In a flash Zoro unsheathed his sword and ran for it, but both of them stopped when a thundering voice called from behind the humandrill, "Hey, ugly!"

Perona's giant form was glaring down at the ape, angry yet leaning on the ground with her cheek on her palm as if she couldn't be bothered with this anymore. The humandrill was frozen in fright, and it made her smile. She lifted her free hand, ready to snap her fingers as a giant Hollow appeared besides her.

"Astral—" her voice boomed. Instinctively, Zoro ran for cover.

"EXPLOSION!" was all he heard before a blinding flash came from behind the chunk of wall that was his shelter. The shockwave sent dust and stone flying all around him.

Everything went quiet, except for the slight ringing in his left ear. Charred pebbles crunched beneath his boots as he came out of hiding.

Perona stood at the center of the burned land. The humandrill was nowhere to be seen, probably blown away, but she held the two remaining swords in her arms. For a few moments, neither said anything. Zoro's sight caught her own, and at last a smile broke on his lips.

"That was great." He said.

"I know." She answered. She rearranged the swords in her arms, and then seemed to remember they were not hers, so she went towards Zoro.

"I didn't think they'd end up trying to mimic me," Zoro scratched the back of his neck, only mildly interested on the issue. It was of no concern of his, what the humandrills ended up doing, though it raised the vague question of how the other humandrill had gotten a sword so similar to Mihawk's. "The fuckers learn easily… and well."

"No, they don't. That one could mimic your moves, but it's nowhere near the same. They don't have the mind for it, they don't get why they move the way they do, or where the technique comes from," she said in exasperation, as if she was talking about an annoying child instead of martial philosophy, making her shove Shuusui into Zoro's chest.

Zoro breathed out heavily, but before he could say anything, Perona continued.

"It's all brute strength," she said as Zoro reached for Wado Ichimonji. "And I don't believe in brute strength." She pulled the sword away from his reach.

"Perona, what—?"

"Fighting them, I realized that, even if you could beat their best warrior a dozen times over, it would never be the same as fighting Mihawk. Yet you hurt yourself training over and over to achieve only a fraction of what he can do. So tell me one thing—" As she spoke she rose from the ground, lifting Wado Ichimonji above her head so he wouldn't reach it. Zoro was too befuddled to do anything. "Why are you doing all this? Why did you first set out to become the greatest swordsman?"

Now Zoro reacted, instinctively grabbing the hem of her dress to stop her. It took only one more second of him looking into her eyes to realize the crux of the situation: she did not plan on giving him the sword back unless he answered.

And thus, he found himself speechless. His mouth opened and closed as he stared, but at least his grip on her dress strengthened. He couldn't explain why he didn't just tell her or pull her back down. She had accurately guessed that she'd have to wrestle an answer out of him.

Maybe it was because almost no one had ever asked. The few people who knew about Kuina, he had told them because he felt he owed it to them. Luffy knew, and so did Usopp, if only because he had been on that small boat near the Baratie after Mihawk defeated Zoro, and in his infinite curiosity, had asked, "Who is there in heaven that has to hear your name?"

But the rest only had an inkling of who Kuina had been, or what had happened to her. They had figured Zoro for a man who preferred not to talk about it.

Maybe they had been right. He thought that it was because what had happened was something between Kuina and himself. No one else.

The daily challenges, the easy conversations afterwards, and the occasional children's games despite it all. The feeling of shame and awkward indignation at a world that would make the strongest person Zoro knew cry about what she had been born as.

The deep, cutting pain of a promise unfulfilled that Kuina had left Zoro all alone with, and the sudden, clear realization that if fate willed it, there was nothing you could do to oppose it.

That pain remained as a dull ache somewhere in his chest, not the ragged scream of anger it had once been, and it only acted up in certain circumstances—looking at the face of a woman who should have had another name, a different strength… or when someone knew him so well as to guess that Wado Ichimonji was his most treasured possession, and that she had to demand answers.

And even though it was a demand, he found he didn't mind. There were scars on him that would be open wounds or part of a corpse if it weren't for her. She was now another person whom he owed it to.

"It belonged to my friend." He spat out, looking Perona in the eye. "She and I were going to compete for the title of world's strongest swordsman. She had a strength I'd never seen, but people didn't realize that; they told her she was weak, and hopeless, and that she couldn't challenge the world. That's bullshit!

"…But she died. So now I carry her sword to fulfill that promise. And when I defeat Mihawk, my name will be known even in heaven, and she'll know that my victory is her victory!"

He would remember Perona's eyes at that moment for years to come. For a minimal second they were soft, almost sad, before being filled with surprise. "You are carrying the will… of a woman?"

"That never mattered! She was the strongest person I ever knew, and if she had had the chance, she'd still be, over everyone else, no matter what they said!"

Slowly, Perona lowered herself. Her arms were still above her head, but when her feet touched the ground, she had to look up at Zoro's face. As she lowered the sword at last, presenting it to him, he grabbed it right besides where her hands were, and holding it together it came to be between them.

At last she let go, and took a step back.

Zoro felt exhausted, as if it had been him the one who had fought off all those humandrills. His chest rose up and down as his breathing normalized, and he kept his sight down as the dull anger subsided in his chest. And then the roaring monster became asleep again. He closed his eyes, breathed out heavily, and let it rest.

"You know what?" Perona said, making him snap back to reality. She was smiling softly, looking him in the eye. "I hope you succeed."

He nodded and was surprised to find a smile had formed on his lips. His eyes rested on her, forming her image from half-seeing, half-remembering her. Her face, her hair, her slender shoulders had become such a constant in his life, they were memorized. And still he couldn't believe the time they'd spent together was already longer than the one he had spent with his crew. He still wondered what twist of fate had caused that.

Impulsively, he brushed his fingers against her cheek. When she looked at him quizzically, he stammered, "I, uh, just wanted to make sure you weren't a projection."

For a moment it seemed like she would protest, but her expression softened. She leaned into the touch, and in an impulse of her own dived for him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her face buried in his chest, she smelled sweat and dirt and the forest, and didn't mind. His heart beat as fast as hers.

And when he wrapped his arms around her, something changed.

Neither of them could tell what it was, but after every word exchanged and every one bottled up, this all seemed like the natural conclusion of that one and a half year they'd spent together.

So many things were different for them both, she thought. Perona felt unrooted, unsure of where to go from here. That ambition; she really was jealous of such purpose, such… loyalty. She didn't have that. But she was not angry or scared, and when he squeezed her just a little tighter, it only reassured her: she was happy.

When she looked up, he was already watching her and the satisfied smile she was sporting.

But the shift came heavier than either of them expected, making them tumble over an edge neither had noticed.

An instant of silence passed between them before Zoro leaned his head slightly, and she stood on tiptoe to reach him.

They closed their eyes; the loss of that sense intensified the feeling of the kiss tenfold. Their forceful wills made them hold onto each other, neither of them daring to breathe. Still, it only lasted a few seconds.

They split, stepping back from one another as if in a standoff. Perona stared, eyes wide, trying to fight a strange smile. Zoro had a look of surprise—pleased surprise, which he didn't try to hide.

For a moment they said nothing.

"We…"

"K— should go…"

"Back." Zoro finished, motioning with his shoulder in a random direction. The movement pained him, making him wince.

And it was easier to fall back into old habits than keep pilling happening upon happening upon happening on an already heavy night, so Perona recovered her composure and said, "Ugh, come. I have to redo all those bandages!" She grabbed him by his good arm to guide him.

The moon was long past its zenith, the forest quiet once again. They would not reach the castle before sunrise.

With nary another word exchanged, yet close to one another, they walked in silence into a new day.

* * *

><p>I<p>

am deeply sorry for the delay, so you get an extra-long chapter to make up for it. I honestly, honestly hope you guys enjoy this chapter; even though it was very difficult to write, I greatly enjoyed it. So, I leave how effective it actually was up to your judgement.

Also I'm glad I finally finished because now I don't have to write the word 'sword' so much.


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